I run through the crowd of people in the airport, this place is packed from all the protesters out side, forgot what they were mad about...pretty much is what every on is mad about. "Marco, baby come here" catching up I wrap my arms around my 7 year old son and spin in victory as he giggles and kicks his legs and waves his arms. A man rudely shushes me and I turn Marco around holding him with my left arm as he wraps his arms around me neck to keep support and not make my left arm sore. He gets quiet as the TV that everyone is around talks about the zombie infection. 'were have been updated about the zombie invasion it ha-' some one changes the channel muttering to himself about how stupid that lady is 'the virus has broken loose and into the city' I stare at the TV gasping along the crowd.
"Not again..." I remember my brother leaving to go to special government training to fight this virus. He emailed me everyday, asked how Marco was, told me Marco needed a haircut, but I love his shag